Night Shift Mischief: Crime of Fashion
by ImaSupernaturalCSI
Summary: They can't keep quiet about it anymore. Don Flack needs an intervention, and FAST.


**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of "CSI:NY"; they belong to Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS.**

**Author's Note****: Written for afrozenheart412, as it was her mention of this subject that got me thinking about it. Now I need to start watching and paying closer attention to Eddie Cahill's wardrobe. Enjoy!**

"You guys are going to owe me so much for this," Jess Angell whispered as she glanced around the corner. "He's still at his desk. On the phone." She looked back over her shoulder. "Come on, Danny, his shift's almost over, and he's got the kids at the Y tonight, so he'll be headed for his jeans, so hurry up!"

Danny chuckled as he popped the lock. "Chill, Angell," he said. "I got it." He opened the locker door and rummaged around. Finding what he was after, he pulled it off the top shelf and wrinkled his nose. "God, they're awful."

"I know," Jess said. She laughed. "I'm definitely not dating him because of his taste, that's for sure." She poked her head out and her eyes went wide. "Danny, he's off the phone and clocking out!"

"Yeah yeah, I got it," Danny replied. He handed his prize to Lindsay. "See ya upstairs in five minutes, or I'm not comin'."

Lindsay laughed. "Meet you in the conference room in five then." She ducked under his arm and poked her head out of the locker room, then darted for the elevator. Danny closed Flack's locker and spun the lock. "You're an angel, Angell," he said.

Jess rolled her eyes. "Yeah yeah, go on, get outta here!" She moved to intercept Flack before he could make it to the locker room door, and gave Danny the escape route he needed. He headed for the stairs.

"Hey," Flack greeted Angell. "When are you off?"

She smiled at him. "Now."

He grinned back, those baby blues melting her on the spot. "So you wanna go grab a quick bite before I go to the YMCA?"

"As long as it's someplace casual that doesn't require black tie," she said, her eyes sparkling.

He raised an eyebrow, confused. "Huh?"

She blinked. "Never mind," she said quickly. "Come on, go get outta that suit and tie, and let's go."

* * *

Five minutes later, Danny was in the conference room. Joining him were Lindsay, Adam, Sid and Hawkes.

"Did you get 'em?" Hawkes asked, and Lindsay triumphantly held up their token. He frowned. "Good Lord are those things hideous."

"I know, right?"

Danny turned to Adam. "So, did you get yours?"

Adam held up a plastic shopping bag. "What up!" he announced.

"Let's see 'em," Danny said, and Adam tossed his purchase on the conference room table.

Sid chuckled. "Those are terrible," he said. He held up one. "What is this supposed to be, exactly?" he asked.

Adam peered at it. "I think it's a moose."

Lindsay leaned over. "That's not a moose, that's a mule deer." She leaned back and glanced up at Danny. "City boys," she quipped.

"Country girl," Adam shot back. He pointed to one. "That one's my favorite!"

"Plaid, yuck! God that's hideous," Lindsay said, wrinkling her nose. She grinned. "What else ya got?"

"This one is truly awful," Sid said, holding up one that was a eyesore shade of yellow.

"He's gonna hate us so much," Danny said gleefully. "But we had to stage an intervention, I don't know how many more ways I can be subtle about his taste anymore!"

"Tell me about it!" Hawkes agreed. "The other day he was wearing a gray suit jacket and I think one with red and green boxes. I've seen guys come in from the Hudson that look better than he does."

Lindsay checked her watch. "We should get these downstairs," she said. "Adam, hide the ones from his locker. Throw them in Danny's desk or something."

"We could burn them downstairs," Sid offered, and everybody laughed.

"They are destined to die," Danny agreed. In his best Joe Friday, he said, "But it's a crime of fashion."

"And Don Flack is guilty, guilty, guilty," Adam singsonged.

* * *

The next morning, Don Flack came to work and headed for the locker room. As he passed Jess Angell, she offered him a smile. "Got your coffee for ya," she said, nodding to his desk.

"Thanks," he said. "I'm pretty sore from yesterday's dodgeball game, it was hard to get up this morning."

She chuckled. "What are friends for?"

He went into the locker room and spun the combo lock on his locker and popped it open. He collected his gun and slipped his shoulder holster on. Then he reached up on the top shelf and pulled something down.

And frowned. _What the hell?_ He set it down and reached for another one. And got more confused. He finally ran a hand up on the shelf and wiped down several. All of which were _not_ his. All of which were horrifyingly, hideously, clashingly _awful_.

Jess's words yesterday afternoon came back to haunt him. He threw them in his locker and slammed the door. As he realized what had happened, it also dawned on him who was responsible for this.

_Danny Messer, you're a dead man_. Flack didn't know how, or when, but Danny Messer was toast for screwing with him. He whipped open his locker again and chose the less glaringly horrible one. As he slipped it on, his mind was scheming ways to get back at his best friend.

* * *

Everybody was gathered on the tenth floor for the official NYPD headshots. Danny hadn't seen Flack yet, but he knew from Angell that his had been scheduled in around ten. So he waited. The elevator dinged and Lindsay,, Hawkes and Adam joined him in line. "You seen him yet?" Hawkes asked, and Danny shook his head.

"Oh, my God," Lindsay gasped, grabbing Danny's arm. "There he is!"

Don Flack came down the hall. Hawkes couldn't take it anymore. He burst out laughing, sidesplitting laughter that made his eyes water and his head hurt as Don Flack glared at him.

"You're a dead man, I find out you were involved in this," Flack threatened him.

"Wow, I knew your taste was horrible, but this is by _far_ the worst," Lindsay chortled.

Flack glanced down at the offending accessory which was bright neon yellow, then turned his glare to Lindsay. "That's two you're gonna get it for, Monroe!" he growled.

"Hey Flack," Hawkes finally managed to choke out. "Nice tie!"

"Could the photographer even _see_ your face?" Danny gasped. "Did he have to adjust the white balance for brightness?"

"You're so screwed Messer," Flack hissed.

"Maybe you'll finally take the hint," Lindsay offered. "And _please_ get some new ties!"

"Otherwise, we'll have to send Adam out shopping again!" Danny grinned.

The elevator dinged and Sid Hammerback, Jo Danville, and Mac Taylor stepped off. All three stopped dead when they saw Flack's new tie.

Jo's jaw dropped, and even Mac had a hard time keeping a straight face. "Did you lose a bet?" Mac asked Flack.

"What'd you say, Mac?" Sid asked with a smile. "I can't hear you, his tie's too loud!"

"Someone finally called the fashion police on him!" Jo said. She looked over at Danny, Lindsay and Hawkes. "It's about time! I didn't know how much longer I was going to be able to keep quiet over it!"

"You could direct traffic at JFK with that thing!" Sid teased, motioning like an airplane attendant. Everybody laughed.

Flack gave each of them one, long, hard glare, and disappeared for the elevator, wondering how he was going to get away with killing an entire team of NYPD's finest.

_Then again,_ he thought, _I have all these new ties I could strangle them with..._


End file.
